Guns & Roses
by Sophie Ranier
Summary: "Its a bittersweet road we travel with the one we love."   A collection of small Tiva snippets/drabbles/oneshots/tags. Romance: Angst, Humor, Tragedy, Comfort, Cute.
1. Guns

**So I'm starting a new story.**

**But it's not really a story.**

**Just a collection of Tiva oneshots of all shapes and sizes.**

**And this has nothing to do with the band Guns&Roses. I just reallyreally liked that name.**

**There will be drabbles, tags, and anything under 1000 words. All Tiva, all romance, whether it be angst or humor romance. **

**In some they will be together, some they are so close to being together, others, you won't even be sure.**

**Most will not be in the same world, and if they are, I will tell you. I promise. **

**So, enjoy!**

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**Guns**

The warm water is relaxing on her strong, smooth skin.

Things were busy nowadays and it seemed the shower was the only place she could go to clear her mind. Out of everything in her new apartment, she had spent the most research on her showerhead until she found the perfect water pressure. It was heavy, but not sharp, massaging her chest and back and washing away the stresses of the day.

The water against the porcelain floor was loud and the steam fogged up the windows, but the jiggling of her front door handle and the eventual open of the door did not go unheard.

The shaking of the metal makes her stop mid chorus and furrow her eyebrows.

And with the unlocking of the deadbolt, a towel is wrapped quickly over her soaking body and her gun is in her hand.

She stands vigilantly against the doorframe, the door slightly ajar slightly, moving her head slowly to see if she can get a good look at the intruder. But there is silence.

Her SIG is raised to her face, which is as alarmed and steady as she usually is in this kinda of situation. There is a creak in the floorboard and she inhales deeply, beginning to the countdown silently.

_3…2…1…_

She turns out of her bathroom sharply, with one swift pivot of her foot, the gun raised directly in front of her.

Her intruder's eyes are wide and innocent and he is frozen in place for a moment, stunned. The half-eaten roll in his mouth drops to the floor.

Ziva lets out a sharp breath, lowering her gun and tightening the towel around her body. She shakes her head and he beams a smile, a chuckle is about to burst.

"Tony! I almost shot you!" she resists the urge to give him a swift smack to the chest.

But he just keeps on smiling. "You would never." He tests her playfully.

"I came quite close." She takes another deep breath before finally locking eyes with him. "What are you doing here anyway?" she asks slightly tiredly.

"It's Tuesday. I brought dinner, Italian." He explains turning to the huge white paper bag on her dining room table.

Her confused expression is still frozen on him. "Tony, it is your week."

"Hmm?" he hums, looking up from the bags. "No its not." He says simply.

"Yes…" she assures him, taking a step closer to him. He pauses, a soft smile on his face as the steam that was still lingering on her body is practically wrapping around him. She stands on her tippy toes, chin to chin. "We were here last week."

His eyes wander down her body slowly, lost in her warmth and beauty, he resists the urge to touch her, and Ziva can feel his struggle. "Oh…right."

Ziva smirks, knowing he is not speaking from his mouth.

"Well, you are here, and so is the food, so no matter. Plus, now I will not feel guilty about not making my bed this morning." She inches closer to him, until he can almost feel her smile on his lips.

And she is surprised that it is _he_ that stops _her_.

His hand is wrapped around her lower arm, and it is slowly crawling down to her wrist. She opens her eyes and watches his lips as he maneuvers his hand to her gun without a single peek.

He takes it cautiously out of her hand and watched her smirk grow. "Let's put this away first hmm?" he places it on the table next to them. She steals a quick glance towards it before returning to his eyes.

He cups her cheek in his hand. "Wouldn't want any casualties would we?"

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**Well I can usually knock out a few of these at a time. And I'm working on a few tags to Dead Air.**


	2. Post It

**Tags to 5x5 'Dead Air'

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**Post-It**

She smiles across the bullpen at him; he is scribbling something on a post-it.

"Are you sure you do not need a ride home?"

He shakes his head, it's a wild and childish gesture that makes her crinkle her nose.

Ziva stares at him for another moment, before she catches herself, letting out a content sigh and picking up her jacket from the back of her chair. She is about to turn the corner of her desk when a disturbing sound pierces the atmosphere.

The sound resembles that of an opera singing kitten getting run over by a steamer. Or a frog being thrown into a garbage disposal.

She turns her head and his hand is furiously gesturing for her to come to his desk. And she compels, with a sigh.

He wraps his finger inward a few times, with each time her face grows closer to his. And finally, when they're lips are just inches, no centimeters away, he plants the yellow sticky paper to her forehead.

She contemplates shooting him.

Her eyes wander to the middle of her forehead and she rips the post-it off quickly as he gathers his things. "What is this?"

"Can't talk." He barely whispers, practically tripping on his way to catch the elevator, leaving Ziva alone in the bullpen.

Slowly and cautiously, she turns the paper around, as if there would be some weird sadistic code on it.

But there is just one simple word in his loud, bold handwriting. And flashbacks of the earlier bomb rush back to her momentarily. Warning him, protecting him. But that was part of the job, and nothing compared to two summers ago.

_Thanks _


	3. When Hope Prevails

**When Hope Prevails**

The smile is on her face before she wakes up.

But as her eyes open, catching the sight of the empty spot next to her, the smile is gone; along with the glimmer of hope she had somewhere deep inside.

Ziva lies on her stomach, the same position she woke up in, but she crosses her arms underneath her head, still staring at the abandoned left side of the bed. She lets out a long and grim sigh and reaches for the pillow next to her.

It is still warm, and the sheets are still messed up.

She contemplates going back to sleep, not in the mood to get up this early.

She knows she shouldn't be this disappointed; this isn't the first time she woke up to an empty bed and she had also had her shares of sneaking out in the middle of the night on him. This whole thing, whatever they could call it, was still so fresh and new. And like a newborn baby, they were afraid to do anything huge, scared they might drop it. But for some silly reason, she had some hope; hope that he would stay with her for the whole day.

It was the only thing she prayed for every night he stayed over.

And sometimes her prayers were answered, but deep inside, she would never mind waking up in his warmth every day.

There is silence, while she lays fully awake, her eyes hurting the more she looks at the deserted pillow. Soon, she realizes she has not blinked in a full minute and tears are starting to blur her vision. Ziva takes one last deep breath and closes her eyes.

A small tear creeps down her nose.

And then, hope is heard, in the form of a flush.

Her eyes open slowly; it takes the same amount of time for the bathroom door to open and for him to walk around to his side of the bed.

Tony places his body softly on the bed, trying carefully not to wake her, but he turns around, hoping to catch another peek at the sleeping assassin, when he realizes she is already awake.

"Oh, hey." It's barely a whisper.

He cuddles closer to her, until their faces are dangerously close.

"You stayed." She points out, not able to hold back the subtle smile her lips pull.

"I did." He wraps his arms around her waist.

"Good morning." She kisses him softly.

And it certainly is.

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**Wow. I didn't realize how fluffy and gooey that last line was until I went back and read it.**

**Oh well, Reviews would be great:D**


	4. Sonrisa

**Sonrisa**

Her beauty was purely intoxicating when the Spanish sun beat down upon her.

Madrid was surely a beautiful city.

And Ziva was surely a beautiful woman.

He approached her from behind, her soft yellow blouse bringing out every shade of brown tangled in her curls.

He stands next to her, closer than he needs to. "Amazing isn't it?"

She hums a smile "Sometimes I hate only having one day in a city." She sighs, not taking her eyes off the view of the hotel balcony. "But that is part of the job I guess." And he senses the disappointment in her voice.

He turns to her, and after an irresistible moment, she turns too, her face showing obvious signs that she was both confused and intrigued. Her hair is in wildly loose curls and he can barely see the whole shape of her face, which is killing him inside.

So, simply, he fixes it, tucking a few strands of hair behind her right ear.

And with the same hand, a few strands behind her left ear.

She smiles.

"Was that necessary?" The tips of her fingers are touching his.

"Not completely." he shrugs. "But _A veces te hace sonreír_."

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**Translation: (I hope:/) Sometimes it makes you smile.**

**Title: Smile**

**I couldn't resist this one:D It's my second favorite quote to ever come out of Tony's mouth that's directed to Ziva**

_***If anyone has any suggestions, leave it in a review. Just like a word or two, something i can work around, that would be a bowl of awesomeness***_


	5. Dress Shirt

**Dress Shirt**

In the heat of their passion, her shirt has been carelessly flung behind the bed.

And in their rush, she grabbed the first dress shirt she could grab out of his closet.

It was white with thin blue stripes running vertically up and down and the buttons opposite of what she's used to. It was a bit loose fitting, but when she tucked it into her tan work pants, she could pull it off.

She sat at her desk, absently swinging from side to side as she read through the witness statements. Suddenly, she heard McGee's voice, telling Gibbs about a suspicious purchase embedded in the history of her bank account. He pointed to the elevator, telling Tony to go with him. And as McGee passed Ziva desk, he stopped, and stole a glance towards Gibbs, making sure he wasn't paying much attention.

"That's a nice shirt." He whispered towards her, getting her attention.

She looked up at him in confusion, then smirked to herself. "Why thank you McGee."

"Yea, it looks a lot better on you than it did on Dinozzo last week."

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***Still open to suggestions***


	6. Straight Through My Brain

**Straight Through My Brain**

She stared at the floor, she could feel the cold barrel of the gun on her temple; she heard the click of the revolver. She heard his voice.

"Fine, I will just kill her then."

Ziva took in a sharp inhale, her heart about to burst of her chest, but her demeanor showed no fear.

She could feel the tips of Tony's fingers brushing against hers, fiddling until their index fingers were wrapped around each other's tightly.

Dirt and grime filled the heavy, murky air, and she couldn't get the thick taste of blood out of her mouth.

They sat in matching stiff wooden chairs with identical scars and bruises decorating their bodies. Insomnia and pain was killing them faster than this man could.

"No." Tony said sternly, a command. The man's narrow eyes wandered to Tony's.

He flashbacked to Somalia, a knife held up against her throat, dangerously close to piercing the flesh of her neck. He had options, they had a plan, but here, all hope was lost.

_Take a bullet straight through my brain for you._

"Kill _me_."

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**Little angst. **

**And again, these are little oneshots and drabbles, no real storylines or anything. **

**Review?**


	7. Déjà vu

**Déjà vu **

Tony was more concerned with the Israeli assassin on top of him, than how she got there.

This wasn't the first time, nor was it the second or the third time they had found themselves in his position, but it was definitely different, they could feel it.

He held her firmly by the waist, pulling her close and tight against him, looking into her eyes admiringly.

Ziva ran her hands through his hair, their noses brushing until their lips magnetically connected.

It was a slow, loving kiss, each of their lips lingering for more than needed.

It was pure bliss.

_I feel like we've been here before._

_And yet this time, its completely different._

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**This was probably the shortest one I wrote, but I'm in love with the last scene in Dead Air so…**


	8. Tease

**Tease**

The fast paced music soon slowed down a beat or two, until finally couples began uniting and the stares became more intense.

They were unsure at first, moving slightly closer to each other with every passing moment until Tony's hand were sitting loosely on Ziva's hips and her hands moved to the bottom of his shoulders.

"This is nice." He whispered, pulling her closer.

"Do not get to excited _lion_." She narrowed her chocolate browns on him, holding back a smile as her fingers grazed the light fabric of his crisp white shirt.

"The term is _tiger_." His mouth opened slightly as he swayed her gently, side to side.

There was silence, but not uneventful silence; silence filled with strong, but soft stares, neither gathering up the courage to go all the way. And yet they moved closer every second.

Ziva brushed her lips against his; it was hardly a touch, let alone a kiss.

It was a pure tease.

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**Suuuper bored. **

**Someone give me a word to work with.**


	9. Sugar We're Going Down Swinging

**Sugar We're Going Down Swinging. **

"Stay still Tony." She gritted harshly through her teeth. Her forehead was damp with sweat as she looked over the bomb strapped to his chest.

"Whatever you say bossy." He said, trying his hardest not to shift, but the hay he was sitting on was uncomfortable.

"Tony!" she spat, her heart beating rapidly as she tried to keep the pocketknife in her hands steady.

He swallowed.

There was thick, uncomfortable silence as the knife lingered over the wires, Ziva putting every fiber in her being into not making one wrong move.

She wouldn't lose Tony.

"Should've worn something a bit more comfortable. This tie is pretty tight. And now that I'm thinking about it, more deodorant would have been use-" he rambled to himself in a low voice.

Ziva could hear the fear in his words.

"Sh!" she shut him up. "Stop. This is not a joke Tony."

Tony squirmed at the silence that lay ahead. He looked down at her; she was eye to chest with him. Her toes were killing her.

He looked back up and heard her inhale sharply. And before he could blink,

She cut the first wire.

"What was that?"

Ziva let out a breath.

"Whoa, no, no, no. You cut a wire, you tell me first!" he said behind clenched teeth.

"Tony." She looked up at him hardly. "You need to trust me."

The red light blinked. Her breathing was heavy; his body was soaked with sweat.

He nodded.

She cut the next wire.

Silence.

"That was fast."

"The first cut is the hardest."

"Deepest."

She looked up at him. "_No_, hardest." She went back to searching the mess of tangled wires for the right one.

"Well it's a song, not a very good one, but a song none the less."

"Tony." She breathed, obviously aggravated.

"Right, no jokes." But he smiled. "You know I was thinking we could watch Speed tonight, if you're not too tired."

"Or dead." She mumbled.

She cut another wire.

Tony flinched.

"One more."

She moved the knife between the red wire and the thinner green one.

"Wanna phone a friend?" he chuckled.

She took in a deep breath. Tony could sense her frustration.

"We're gunna get out of this right?" he asked her, it was barely a whisper.

Ziva moved her head slowly upwards to meet his eyes. Her heart was aching, her throat was dry.

She looked back down at the bomb.

Tony swallowed. "If you can't pick, leave."

"Do not tell me what to do."

"No, Ziva." his voice was stern and full of command. "Leave." He paused. "But only when things get bad, cause if not, then…well then don't leave." His voice was lighter, but still trembling.

"Tony." She took his hand, tight. "I am_ not_ leaving you." She paused after every word, speaking slowly and confidently.

There was no fighting with her tone. "Sugar we're going down swinging." He whispered to himself.

"Tony, I want to make one thing clear…" she held the knife under the thick red wire and looked up at him. "I _can_ live without you."

She cut the wire.

Silence.

Ziva let the weight of the world off her shoulders in a single breath.

"It's just that I do not want to."

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**Wow. Long one. But only like 500 words.**

**Oh, bytheway, rocking this Hangover sweatshirt like a boss.**


	10. Lace and Leather

**For PodDoc

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**Leather and Lace**

Two contrasting materials.

Lace, it makes her softer, sweeter, girlier even, when she choose light purple or the occasional pink.

Leather is when they are feeling adventurous, sexy. When she wants to be as rough and tumble as the stampede of cows that gave her the material.

Lace becomes a part of her body. When his hand ventures up her waist, the only indication of the material was simply the change of the coarse flowers and leaves all embedded in an elaborate, detailed pattern, to the smoothness of her olive skin.

Leather was a wrapper. He had two options; rip it off eagerly and impatiently, for he already knew what was underneath. Or pull it off slowly and carefully, savoring every moment in anticipation to make the present inside worth the wait.

Either material, either style, Tony preferred the leather and lace thrown carelessly on the floor rather than Ziva's body.

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**Review:3**


	11. Light Bulb

**For marshmeg

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**Light bulb**

She deepened the kiss, straddling herself on top of him, pushing him deeper into the pillows.

Ziva nipped at his bottom lip. A soft moan escaped him.

The light bulb flickered.

He cupped her face in his hands while she ran her fingers through his soft, silky hair.

The light flickered once more.

She changed her course of direction, planting hard kisses down his neck, reaching his shoulder.

And yet again, the light bulb flickered.

"Tell me that's bothering you as much as it is me." He pleaded softly as she made her way back up his neck.

"What?" she asked confused, breathless; it is obvious in her voice that it went unnoticed by her.

"The light. Its flickering." He let out a small yelp as she nibbled at his ear unexpectedly.

"Are you joking?" she asked, coming face to face with him.

But the pure innocence and agitation in his eyes told her otherwise.

She let out a deep sigh, climbing off of him. "Turn it off." Her voice was filled with exasperation.

"I'll be right back." He planted a quick kiss to her temple and heard her giggle softly as he ran to the lamp, naked.

"I cannot believe you are cockblocking yourself over a lamp."

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**Review!**


	12. Salty, Sour, Sweet

**For tivamcabby5

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**Salty, Sour, Sweet**

"I do not like this game already." Ziva pouted as Tony adjusted the blindfold on her head.

"Oh, come on sweetcheeks, its fun." He smiled, enjoying her lack of vision a little too much.

"It has no point."

"It's _fun_. And there's a surprise." He moved in front of her. "Can you see me?" he asked, waving his hand in front of her.

"Fortunately, no." she teased.

He stuck out his tongue. "Just remember you are blindfolded."

"And I could still probably pull you down." She scoffed.

"_Bring,_ and true. But still, behave." He sat her down on the couch gently, before taking a pretzel out of the first bowl on the table.

Sitting in front of her, Tony brought the pretzel to her mouth. She complied, opening her mouth and taking a bite.

"Remember, one word."

"Salty."

"That's obvious."

"It's a pretzel."

"Well I think that was too easy." He picked up an item from the second bowl, placing it on her lips until she opened up.

She pursed her lips inwards, tightening her face as she flinched back slightly. "Ugh." She wiped her hand hard against her lips.

Tony cackled.

"You know I do not like lemons!" she scraped her tongue against her teeth.

"Yea, but you still have to pick a word." He hummed.

"Sour!"

"You're good at this."

"The next one better make up for that." She threatened.

"Oh, it will." He replied charmingly, moving closer to her.

His warm breath tingled on her lips until there was no space between them. His lips lingered on hers for a moment, his lips wrapping around her top lip, hesitant to let go. But he did.

"Hmmm…I think that was another sour one." She did her best to hold back her laughter.

"Oh." He grunted, thumping his hand against his heart in exaggeration. "That hurt."

She let loose her chuckle. "Wait, maybe I need another taste." She smiled.

He gave her another short, yet passionate kiss.

"I was wrong…_sweet_."

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**Review. And Suggest:D**


	13. Keyboard

**For tivamcabby5**

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**Keyboard**

They sat across from each other, as they always did.

Light bounced off the facets of her diamond wedding ring as she typed. The heavy sound of the keyboard was something Ziva had learned to deal with.

Something caught her ear.

The same sound she thought she blocked out from her mind as it was usually caught up in a sea of other office supplies throughout the office.

But she heard it; a definite rhythm.

_Tap-taptap-tap-taptaptap-taptap-tap._

Her eyes fluttered to the desk across from her, only to catch her husband's mischievously charming smile greeting her inevitable questioning stare.

"I know that rhythm." She smirked.

"Well I would hope you do, Agent Dinozzo." He grinned back at her, not stopping his beat.

"Playing our wedding song on your keyboard? For a charmer I think you could do better." she shot a playful smile his way.

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**I need words…and reviews.**


	14. Cat and Mouse

**Cat And Mouse

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It was a simply complicated game of cat and mouse, really, one that only they knew the rules to.

Their strategies were a perfect example of improv tactics, a game-like relationship, evasion and pursuit being their only weapons against anything real.

It had substance though, their relationship, if you could go so far as to call it that. They had limits and lines, whether they choose to cross them or not was an in the moment decision, driven from the inner, subconscious instinct to protect a loved one.

But they would never go so far as to call it love.

Although it very much was love.

Weather they were _in love_, no one, maybe not even them, themselves, would know.

Cat and mouse would be a good way to describe it; a real life Tom and Jerry, with a few changes.

Instead of trying to kill each other, it was more of trying to love each other.

It was a constant battle, to see how far they could push one another until the other, or themselves, inevitably backed down. They would go as far as they possibly could without being in a text-book, black and white relationship. And at the last moment, when faced with the only choices of going all the way through, or backing down, well they became cowards, although their rock hard interiors, shaped to be rough and raged by the different yet all too similar challenges life had thrown them, never showed it.

Yes, their loves was a simple game of cat and mouse to them.

The only thing they had trouble determining was who was the cat and who was the mouse.

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**Words...Reviews...they give me strength. **


	15. Difference

**Difference**

"I did what I had to do, and if that meant risking my life to save his, then so be it." Ziva stares deeply into the young woman eyes before turning swiftly on her heel.

"You love him."

It was a statement.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The truth, the whole truth.

"You love Tony."

The agent, as fresh and new as she was, has been part of the team long enough to stop making accusations, and start making truthful observations.

Her words sting Ziva, making her stop mid-stride. She does not turn around; she hardly even breathes.

Moments pass, and Ziva cannot stand the dagger eyes digging deeper and deeper into the back of her neck.

She turns, meeting shocking innocent eyes.

She swallows. "Sure, perhaps I do." she admits. There is no smile. There is hardly any emotion.

"But I am not _in love_ with him."

Ziva's eyes sink into the young probie's as deep as her lie.

And without another breath, Ziva turns and walks calmly out of the break room, leaving a sarcastically amused probie behind her.

The young agent breaths a laugh.

Because while Denial is the first stage, Acceptance is the final.

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**Review…words…the usual**

**Please, thank you, and I love you.**


	16. Thankful

**For tivamcabby5**

**Happy Early Thanksgiving :D**

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**Thankful**

He enters the hospital room and finds her not on her bed, but on the couch, lazily looking out the window. She lays her chin on her good arm.

The fall leaves are soaked by the downpour. It's a gloomy day. And she's not in the best of moods.

He sits down next to her, closer than he needs to be.

"Hey mister grumpy gills." He pouts, poking her shoulder, carefully missing the bruise right above it.

She shoots her narrowed eyes at him and if her arm were not in a cast, she would have hit him.

"Sorry…_miss_." he teases.

Ziva turns back to the window with a small huff, buts it's not an angry puff, more of a thoughtful puff.

"How is your head?" she asks, not even looking at the bandage wrapped around his cranium.

"Fine enough for me to be in my right mind." He beams proudly.

"When are you ever in your right mind?" she chuckles softly to herself.

His voice is softer now, sweeter. "I am now. And I know you have something on your mind."

She rolls her eyes.

"Ziva…" he prods with a breaking smile. "Come on, try me. Pondering the meaning of life? Still trying to figure out Inception? Thinking about a boyfriend?" he sings the last question giddily.

"No, just you." she says simply.

He hardly has enough time to be taken aback when she adds. "Thank you."

"Oh god, what god among men deed have I done now? Should I expect a parade?" he can hardly hold a smile, because it's a ridiculous question, as his eyes avoid anything below her head. He has already inspected her body anyway, while she was asleep. Dozens of bruises, cuts and scrapes of all shapes and sizes, a broken rib, and her arm, fractured in two different places.

"If I was not on so much pain medication, I'd shut you up with my bare hands." She threatens tiredly.

There is a baby elephant in the room. She wouldn't be here without him. This isn't the first time he's saved her, nor will it be the last

She lets a moment pass before she speaks. "What I am thankful for is that you are you." She says slowly, her eyes only meeting his on her last words. .

"Because, as much as I hate to admit it…I do not know what I would do without you."

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**Words would be the best:D**

**And reviews, those are amazing too!**


	17. Lucky Ones

**Tags to 7x2: Reunion

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**The Lucky Ones**

"…_There comes an aha-moment for some folks - the lucky ones - when they suddenly recognize the difference."__ –Stephen King_

She could have kissed him, for real.

She could have told him she loved him.

She could have told him how hard it was for her to let go; how hard it was for her to think that she could not trust him; how confused she was when he killed Michael; how much she cared about him; how he saved her life and she could never repay him.

She could have.

Another missed chance, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

There is a different air to this setting.

They're alone, completely secluded.

Ziva's safe; she's alive. And it's because of Tony.

Somalia is still fresh on their skin, they are both vulnerable.

But she simply kisses him gingerly on the cheek, and he just stares.

He could have said something.

He could have kissed her back.

Another chance passes, and like the others, they will never get it back. They can only pray for another chance, and said chance can only pray that they will recognize him.

Because they are not always the lucky ones.

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**Review…More words/phrases, I have a few I'm working on. **


	18. Still My Favorite Picture

**Stolen from a Jibbs quote, from 4x1: Shalom (thanks ****Polillalex!) Tags to Jetlag**

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**Still My Favorite Picture**

She sat uncomfortably at her desk, elbows pressed hard on the table, fingers massaging her temples.

Ziva's young probie strode into the bullpen quietly, dropping her backpack as she made a beeline for her boss' desk.

"Boss." Her smile was too much for Ziva's headache to take.

She slowly opened her eyes, rolling them upwards to meet the young agent. "Yes?" she asked tiredly.

"Agent Dinozzo gave me this." She held out a crisp white envelope, marked with her name in deep black script.

As if out of instinct, Ziva lifted herself off of her chair and took the envelope out of her hands. The probie could sense a bit of hesitation as she traced her fingers over the handwriting on the front.

The mere mention of Tony's name caught Ziva's senior field agent's attention and he soon prowled over to her desk as he watched her open the envelope in anticipation.

She breathed a soft laugh.

The struggle and stress of that day suddenly melted away.

"Wow." He said, stunned, now peering over his boss' shoulder.

It was a single, glossy picture; slightly torn and folded dozens of times, it was warm and she could feel his body heat on it with just a single touch.

"You look so young." He added in astonishment.

The probie elbowed him. He coughed. "Not that you're old or anyth-"

"It's beautiful." The probie interrupted. "Where was that? England?" she asked curiously.

"Paris." Ziva whispered to herself.

She was lost. Her smile resembled that of a lovesick teenager.

She turned it over slowly. There was more handwriting, cursive. Fast and swift.

_Still my favorite picture._

The probie watched Ziva's eyes light up with glee. "When was it taken?"

She chuckled lightly, never taking her eyes off the picture.

"A lifetime ago."

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**Words, reviews, and all that jazz. I hope these aren't losing momentum. I love writing them, I just hope you guys love reading them:D**


	19. Love Sick

**Love Sick**

Ziva David could count on one hand the amount of times she got sick.

But when she did get sick, she got _sick_.

She lay half asleep in bed, pillows puffed to near perfection and blankets stacked on top of her shaking body. Her body burned like hell and sweat stuck to her forehead and cheeks. Dark gray bags decorated the bottom of her tired eyes.

She ends her short coughing fit with a sniffle as he walks in, merrily carrying a tray with hot chicken noodle soup and a bottle of ginger ale.

"Hey sicky Vicky." he beams, plopping down on the side of the bed. Tony places the tray on her lap.

And she's starting to hate that stupid smile locked on his face.

Ziva moans before another coughing fit attacks. But she stifles a smile. "Thank you, ahuvi." she groans.

He reaches up and brushes a few pieces of her untamed hair from her face. He moves forward slightly, just inches from her face, but she stops him with another groan.

"Stop, you do not want to get near me, I am sick."

"No." he tucks the strand of hair he's been toying with behind her ear. "I always want to be near you."

He kisses her sick, sick lips softly.

* * *

**Hohum.**

**Review?**

**Oh, and if you want to ask me a question about this story or something, don't leave an anonymous review. I'd love to answer it, so just login. **

**Thanks:D**


	20. Murmur

**Murmur**

With his arms wrapped tightly and securely around her, his body squished up against hers in the comfort of their bed, she felt a light tickle on her shoulder.

Their hands are tightly interlocked and she just pulls them deeper into her chest, his warmth wrapped around her. Again, she feels the tickle on her shoulder.

And for a second, she thinks it might be his voice.

Then there's the soft feel of his lips on her shoulder blade, followed by a low murmur, vibrating against her skin.

Ziva laughs. "Did you say something?"

Again, there is an inaudible murmur against her olive shoulder blade.

She smiles, intertwining her legs in Tony's. "You really need to speak up."

He lifts his lips from her bare skin and whispers.

"That is not any better."

His head shoots up and he turns them so that his face is directly above hers. "I said, 'I love you'!" he looks down on her with wide eyes and a somewhat sarcastically charming smile.

"Oh." she lifts her head up to kiss him. "Well I love you too."

They assume their original position and Ziva lets her eyes slowly close.

"And you kick like hell." he murmurs.

"Did you say something?" she mumbles.

"Nope." he laughs, kissing her shoulder blade once more.

* * *

**Its supposed to be playful, not mean or anything.**

**I really need to get back into writing, so this wasn't my greatest. **

**And I just got a new computer so I'm in the process of having all my files transferred:P**

**Anyways, words and reviews would be great since I'm so short on the first. **


	21. Second Chances

**Second Chance**

"You know, Nathan asked me to marry him three times." the girlfriend of the dead man looks down at his body mirthlessly. "I thought it was too soon. He was rushing things." she crosses her arms wipes a few stray tears from her eyes. "If we had just gotten married...moved away like he planned..."

Ziva gives her a sympathetic look before the woman's eyes meet hers.

"If you're ever given a second chance, take it." the woman says softly.

She closes her eyes. More tears spill out from underneath her eyelids. Ziva slowly escorts her out of autopsy.

* * *

With a slam of his file cabinet, Tony turns off his desk lamp and grabs his stuff. McGee is long gone and Gibbs is up in the director's office. He heads towards the elevator, stopping at Ziva's desk.

"I'm gunna go get a drink. I could use a companion." he smiles.

"Retrievers are good for that." she eyes him slyly, her fingers still typing away.

He chuckles sarcastically. "I'll buy."

She stops typing and looks up at him. "No thank you Tony."

He quickly licks his lips and nods, heading towards the elevator. But something makes him back up, and before he even gives it a second thought his feet are leading him backwards towards her desk.

"You sure?"

She looks up at him with a sigh.

The mourning woman's words ring through her head.

Ziva looks him in the eye, softly.

"Fine." she smiles.

He's caught off guard, having been expecting to be politely rejected or threatened of bodily harm. And he smiles a proud smile as he waits for her to collect her stuff.

"One drink." she assures him.

Or maybe two.

* * *

**So?**

**Review.**

**And give me a few more ideas. I'm running low on juice and these times around I'm just using reject scenes from my other fics.**


	22. Self Restraint

**Self Restraint **

They're toe-to-toe outside her apartment door. And he looks down at her like she's the most beautiful woman in the world, and she's almost scared, because she's not used to such an adoring look.

"You want to kiss me." she states with a smirk.

"Yea, I do." he smiles and confirms her suspicions.

"Well do not." she replies, much to his surprise.

"And why not?" he quirks an eyebrow, eyes still locked on hers.

"Because you have no self restraint." She remembers last time he kissed her and how little time it took for him to have her clothes off and in his bed.

"_I_ have no self restraint?" he volleys, as if somewhat hurt by the statement.

"That is right." she says simply.

"Wanna bet?" he asks with a devilish smile.

"Not particularly." She makes no attempt to take her eyes off him.

"Why?" he chuckles. "You know you'll lose?

"But I won't." she replies with the utmost boldness.

"I think you're the one afraid of having no self restraint." his index finger lightly taps her nose. She scrunches her face.

"I have _plenty_ of self restraint." her smile resembles a presumptuous peacock, newly feathered and dripping in self confidence.

"Having to resist me for seven years help with that?" Neither of them realize how fast or close they are inching in on each other.

"Ha!" she snorts

"Fine." he smiles a cocky smile. "_Prove it_. Prove to me that you can resist jumping my bones if we kiss."

"Fine, kiss me!" she shrugs challengingly.

He smiles widely, leaning in a millimeter closer. She closes her eyes when his face becomes two as her eyes cross.

"I'm a wonderful chess player you know." he whispers right before planting a sweet kiss on her lips.

She can feel his smile, covered in confidence, on hers.

He pulls her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair. She deepens the kiss.

Maybe just this once they could both be wrong.

* * *

**So?**

**I still have a few lined up, I got some awesome words last chapter and next week I have off so expect a lot. **

**Review:D**


	23. Want

**Want**

Minuscule water droplets decorate her delicate face as she stares back at her reflection; tired and hopeless.

The entire Ray fiasco had just blown up in the bullpen and had ended with a furious Ziva striding angrily, tears burning her eyes, to the woman's bathroom. She was no stranger to lying, back-stabbing men, but she thought Ray was different. Then again, she thought they were all different.

"I am so stupid." she mumbled to herself, drying her face with a paper towel.

"No you're not." Ziva inhales sharply. His voice is like nails on a chalkboard right now. "You just have terrible taste in men. You should probably work on that."

She turns around on her heel. "You should speak for yourself." she tried to walk past him, but Tony gently grabs for her arm as she passes. Her eyes grow narrow on him. "I suggest you let go of me."

"You don't wanna go out there. Things are still cooling down."

Ziva takes a deep breath, relaxing her muscles. He lets go of her gently, his hand brushing slowly down her arm.

She leans her body against the counter, crossing her arms. "What do you want?"

"Would you stop thinking about what everyone wants? Stop thinking about what I want, what he wants, what your parents want. What do _you_ want?" With every word he inches closer to her. He watches her eyes grow more and more confused as he talks.

After a moment of watching her try to figure him out, eyebrows knit together and mouth slightly open, he cracks a smile. "Sorry, fell asleep watching _The Notebook_ last night."

"Don't you usually _read_ notebooks?" she asks in confusion.

"Its a movie." he chuckles. "But it does have a point." Tony's face crinkles in thought. "There's gotta be something you want. I mean unless you wanna go through life getting played by these bastards or just not getting laid at all."

She eyes him softly. Her heart is beating at a fast, but steady pace and she can feel her knees buckling. Right now, what she wants to do is run, and not look back. But she can't; she's a fighter, has been all her life. And she's convinced herself that the only way out of a situation is to fight.

"I want..." she curls her lips inward. "Is for someone to love me..." she catches her breath. Tony's eyes grow empty as he watches her own fill up with tears that she won't allow to fall. "Without having an alternate motive." And with that, she looks away, but does not move. She trying to concentrate on staring hard enough to keep her tears where they are supposed to be.

He watches her eyes fall to the ground in despair. All he wants is for her pain to go away.

Tony reaches his hand up to her crossed arms, brushing his fingers along her soft skin, sending a ripple of goosebumps to her fingertips. She still does not look up at him as her arms fall to her side. Slowly, he traces his finger down to her hand, and squeezes his softly, securely.

"I don't have an alternate motive."

He brings his free hand to her cheek, bringing her lips to his. He kisses her softly and feels the tingling sensation of her hand making its way to the small of his neck. He wraps his lips around hers once more before breaking free.

They keep their hands where they were, and she playfully pulls the little hairs on the back of his neck as she looks up with him with blissful eyes.

"I thought you said I have terrible taste in men." she teases. He brings his mouth to hers, but does not touch them, only feeling her warm breath, tickles his lips.

"I also said you should work on altering your tastes." She can feel his smirk on her own lips.

"Like to you?" she chuckles, causing their lips to touch for a brief moment due to their intimate proximity.

"Yea."

In one swift motion he picks her up by her thighs and places her gently on the counter. She wraps her legs around his waist as he dips her down, her head just touching the mirror behind her. Their muscles tense as he closes his eyes, kissing her again.

"This better?" he asks, breathless. "Is this what you want?"

"Maybe." she smirks.

He chuckles, shaking his head hopefully. "I guess I can live with maybe."

* * *

**Yea, so new name. Ziva's undercover name to be specific. Thanks to Amber, for helping me pick it out3**

**Anyways, I suck right now, I know. I should be writing more. But I'm just too damn lazy. I have a few ideas, those words you guys gave me helps me a lot. Hopefully I'll have a new chapter up this weekend.**

****by the way. i have no idea how this whole ray thing is gunna turn out. and i really dont think anything tragic is gunna happen. but his name just happened to fit itself into this**  
**


	24. Touch

**Touch**

You now know what utter frustration and irrevocable happiness feel liek at the same time. And its a confusing, adrenaline-inducing emotion.

Part of you wants McGee to get off the floor and pinch your arm and the other part just wants to reach out and feel her hair or caress her cheek; either of the two proving you're not getting desert fever and hallucinating.

But your hands are tied and your throat is dry. You could care less about the latter; its the foremost that's pushing you over the edge of frustration.

You know there will be mark, bruises, red lines and some possible scaring when you finally break free and you finally know exactly how Indian Jones felt.

All you want to do is get out of these damn binds and touch her, hold her, kiss her. You want to bury your nose deep in her hair until you reach her olive skin and you could care less how sweaty, greasy, or sandy either might be. You just need to prove to yourself that she's alive. Maybe even your hand over her heart, just to heaar one flutter of a heartbeat with do the trick. You just need to feel the touch of her skin against your. but instead all you do is lock eyes with her, when your not battling the truth serum, because right now that's all you can do.

At this point you finally realize why she intentionally reached her hand out to brush your waist as you made your way back to your desk, your car just having blown up and soon finding out everyone believed you were dead. She jsut needed to know it was you. She needed to feel your skin because although you don't show it enough you know how important skin to skin contact is. A simple touch can bring so much closer And now you know you deserve more than the brush of a finger against hip; she only had to go through less than 24 hours of that. You've endured well over a month. And even more so the living dead was right in front of you and with Saleem not 40 feet outside of you, you have no idea if you'll all make it out.

So now you're fuming with frustration with lack of closer. As she sits there and stares at you while you can only merely pray that its actually her. You have never wanted to simple just feel her mere fingertip against your more than you do right now.

* * *

**Tag to 7x1 Truth or Consequences. **


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